Absence of Warmth
by idioglossia
Summary: They say that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. Nnoitra/Tesla.


_A/N: Honestly, I have no idea how did this fic come to life. I just wanted to try myself at the... angsty kind of fanfiction, and... well, here it is. The fact that I've been writing it for three weeks astounds me to no end (I blame my Social Knowledge tests)._

_I hope I won't get reported D: Aaaand, to my RL friends: now you all will view me as a sick fuck.  
_

* * *

**ABSENCE OF WARMTH**

-

A few of his _components_ still held some most vague remnants of their past lives; sometimes they kept on whispering to him endlessly at night, fighting for his attention, restless, enduring. They weren't particularly problematic (_they were, oh, how irritating they were, but he'd never admit it_) – actually, from time to time, he enjoyed listening to their soothing voices telling tales of lives long gone by.

All of them have known this old proverb: _"Eyes are the windows to the soul"_.

And if it was true, his soul _somehow_ must have been pure and beautiful.

-

"The _fuck_ d'ya want again?"

Nnoitra isn't particularly rude today, he's just himself.

Honestly, the more time Tesla spends by the eighth Espada's side, the more used to his behavior he becomes. Because, you know, Nnoitra does not behave like an arrogant, completely full of himself bastard. No, he is simply reserved and has major problems with establishing relations with other beings; alive or not.

At least according to Tesla's observations, as objective as they could've been.

"Nothing in particular, Nnoitra. Just dropped in to say hello." he replies with a smile –neither too broad nor too meek. Not too confident, not too humble.

The lanky arrancar glares suspiciously at his... _companion_. "Get lost, idiot." says the Espada and it sounds as if he was spitting the words out; with disdain, with disgust. Tesla obediently leaves without hesitation, only to come back a few hours later and admire Nnoitra from the safe refuge of shadows.

-

She might've been enormously powerful, she might've had warrior's reckless soul; yet there was something indefinably _ethereal_ about Neliel Tu Oderschvank. The third Espada was surrounded by the genuine aura of subtlety and nobleness – and it must've been this _something _that Nnoitra hated in her and wanted to crush. Besides, he quite liked destroying beautiful things.

"I really hate that bitch" he mutters to himself and suddenly there is someone else out there to hear these words and ask from behind "Why?"

Nnoitra's single eye narrows, yet he doesn't even bother to turn away "You again."

Tesla doesn't reply; neither he walks away. He asked a question and with his very presence he demands an answer. And, as unexpectedly as it only might've been, Nnoitra fulfills the silent wish.

"She is so fucking haughty and arrogant; always trying to prove me wrong" he mutters "And _nobody_ proves Nnoitra Jiruga wrong, understood?" the Espada finishes, casts a quick (but meaningful) glance at Tesla and turns away again. The blond arrancar nods slightly, as if he wanted to signify that he haven't even thought of it. (_Never, ever._)

They remain in silence for a briefest moment and it's tranquil enough to hear one's heartbeats. Of course providing that someone has a heart, to begin with.

Nnoitra suddenly turns to Tesla and the two face themselves in stillness

"She is _so fucking disgusting_" the Espada carefully mouths his words "Just like you."

-

And then, one day (_or maybe it has been a night, it's so hard to distinguish, so hard, so hard_) she disappears from Las Noches, never to be seen again. Tesla isn't particularly heartbroken; he had liked and respected Neliel very much and he will surely miss her in one way or another, but...

... now, when his arch-nemesis is down, Nnoitra will maybe... _calm down_?

Theory as always differs from practice, though; the next time he meets the Espada he seems even more angered and vindictive than before and Tesla can swear that there is something almost _tragic _about this anger, highly unnatural and... _pitiful. _He is just sitting in a deserted room, apathetically gazing at the dark (_bright?_) sky.

Honestly, the blond arrancar finds no proper words to speak, so they remain in complete silence for a long, long time, before Nnoitra finally politely offers: "Fuck off"

For the very first time in his lifetime (_this lifetime?_) Tesla disobeys; he stands behind the Espada; sorely tempted to place a hand on his shoulder, to ruffle his short black hair, to caress his cheek gently, feel his warmth, if only for a moment (_or another lifetime_). He does nothing of the sort, though – just stands there and tries to make his very presence reassuring.

Eventually the patience is rewarded. Nnoitra stands up, clutches his hands around the handle of his grotesquely big halberd.

"Let's go." the order is so unexpected that Tesla instinctively asks "Where?"

"Where, _sir_." and after a short pause the Espada adds smugly "You've yearned to do it for a long, long time, bitch, didn't you?"

-

On that fateful night (_day, nightfall, daybreak, midnight_) Nnoitra takes him; takes him as a whole and in pieces; shatters him for a thousand times and instantly rebuilds; destroys and creates...

... and leaves.

-

Nnoitra is hardly ever seen in Las Noches nowadays and it's a primary matter of concern – at least for Tesla, who's restlessly roaming through the tall corridors and discreetly peering through the keyholes of the doors he is passing by.

The Espada has recently gotten an rather unexpected _promotion _and a five-shaped tattoo on his tongue instead of the old eight (_do you_ _remember the moist trails this eight left on your skin?)_, so he should have been all triumphant and full of pride – but no, he just disappears and Tesla swears to all the gods and superhuman powers that the next time he sees the Espada he will follow him. Endlessly.

Nnoitra is currently nowhere to be seen.

_"Fuck."_

One of his escapades finally proves to be... _successful._

_-_

He is pacing through the long, white hallway, utterly obsessed with a thought of meeting the missing Espada. He hadn't slept for a long while (_sleeping, oh, what a convenient excuse for the inability to act_), unable to focus on anything but Nnoitra, looking for the briefest fluctuation of his reiatsu, the faintest hint of his smell, anything, just anything that was _his_; yet he detects no such sensation. Despite it Tesla isn't giving up and keeps on searching.

And then, in the most unexpected of all places, he finds what he had craved.

Neliel's chambers were completely deserted since the day she had vanished – at least that's what the majority of Las Noches' residents thought. Nnoitra has somehow managed to acquire a key to the apartment, though; and right now he was inside, rather _occupied_.

Not alone.

The door wasn't precisely locked and through the narrow slit Tesla can behold the details of the scene in all their glory.

The female arrancar isn't _that_ similar to the fallen Espada; she has wavy hair, a bit darker than Neliel's green mane and her body is thinner and smaller; yet Nnoitra doesn't seem concerned. He is just fucking her – and judging from the deep moans that escape her lips, she is rather enjoying it. There is no sensuality in this vulgar synaesthesia of an act, not even the vaguest trace of love.

And yet again there is this strange mixture of despair and _vindictiveness_ that is emanating from Nnoitra; dominating the scene, adding even more tragic patterns to this _pathetic_ display of senses.

In the sudden surge of ecstasy she throws her head back and Tesla gazes in horror at the long gash running along her cheeks, the blood that is seeping from it, her widely open eyes.

He lets out a quiet gasp (_but it was too loud, he has been heard, YOU have been heard_) and momentarily freezes. Nnoitra had heard him, he can see it from the sudden change of the atmosphere and his behavior; yet he isn't going to interrupt himself, no, not now. Running away would've been pointless now. The Espada undoubtedly knows the identity of the voyeur very well and escaping...

... escaping will make it worse, so much worse.

-

Now he is being dragged through the same corridors he had been roaming through earlier and he doesn't know, where would they end up, the master and the curious slave; aware only of the firm grip on his wrist and the violent tugs on his hair. It hurts, but with a brief twinge of guilt Tesla admits that the mere presence of the Espada makes the suffering worthwhile. Besides, Nnoitra seems suspiciously calm – or at least not angrier than usual.

He doesn't know what kind of fate awaits him.

(_But he yearns to know, how much he yearns and prays it'll be fast and painless!_)

They finally reach their destination – it's the very same room in which they met after Neliel's disappearance, the place of so much memories; beginnings and ends. Nnoitra fastens his grip on the smaller arrancar's hair and pulls his head up in a swift, crude move.

"What do we have here?" and Tesla could swear that his voice is _sweet,_ unusually warm. He musters all of his courage and looks Nnoitra in the eye. The Espada is smiling, but his long teeth are barely visible and there is no anger in his expression – he isn't going to punish an obsessive stalker, no, rather a _spoiled child_ "Didn't anyone tell us that spying on our _friends_ is not _nice_?"

Tesla tries to apologize but his vocal chords suddenly don't obey him; and soon he loses control of his whole body. The blond arrancar is shaking like a leaf; though it's the panic that flows through his xylem instead of water and his body responds with excitement, spreading rapidly in the vessels of his phloem (_and it's so easy to crush a leaf to dust, isn't it?_).

"Oh, we are afraid, aren't we?" Nnoitra licks his lips lecherously and lowers his head closer to Tesla "Unnecessarily, _completely_ unnecessarily. Nobody is going to hurt us".

With a one rapid move the Espada lets the other one go and gently places a hand on his shoulder "Friends forgive friends" he states, yet something in his voice makes Tesla back off in utter horror. Nnoitra's grip is forcibly restricting him from running away, though; suddenly the lanky arrancar raises his other hand and gently strokes Tesla's cheek.

"But it's a perfect opportunity to learn a lesson"

He drives two fingers into Tesla's right eye.

-

Morning (_behold, in many other dimensions_ _the new epoch just begins!_) finds him lying on the floor, pale with the loss of blood, helplessly succumbing into spasms of pain. He wants to discard the right side of his face, to rip all the pain away – or at least to make that burning hole in his face stop hurting so much; but it all just won't cease and howls in his head with the thousand voices.

There is another hole he had obtained this night, located dangerously close to his Hollow hole; this pain is overshadowed now, though. It'll come to the surface later and tear him apart, but not now; it can wait.

_And he cannot forget the slightest warmth of Nnoitra's fingers on his cheek._

Oh, how much he hates himself for it.

-

The worst thing about losing an eye is getting used to that awkward empty space in your skull; a thing Tesla haven't mastered yet. The pain has faded away and left only this bizarre feeling as an aftermath. His eyelids still haven't been sewn shut; he spends most of his time in front of the mirror, staring at the horrible wound Nnoitra's fingernails have left. The right side of his face seems flat and shrunken, but it's the other half that worries him; pale and lifeless, the remaining eye looking at him with a mixture of fright and agony.

(_"Eyes are the windows to the soul" someone had said once and it wasn't Nnoitra, so it doesn't matter and you don't really have to believe it_)

And if it was true, he was beyond any redemption.


End file.
